The Ramblin' Kid

by Earl Wayland Bowman

  CHAPTER XX

  MOSTLY SKINNY

  It is a week to the day since the fight in the Elite Amusement Parlor inEagle Butte. Since the Ramblin' Kid, followed by the wicked sing of thebullets from the marshal's gun, disappeared in the darkness no word hascome from the fugitive cowboy, who beat to a pulp the burly Greek.

  The Gold Dust maverick paces uneasily about in the circular corral andthe Quarter Circle KT has settled into the hum-drum routine of ranchlife.

  Parker, Charley, Chuck and Bert are gone to Chicago with the train-loadof beef cattle. Skinny bosses a gang of "picked-up" hay hands Old Heckbrought out from Eagle Butte to harvest the second cutting of alfalfa.Pedro rides line daily on the upland pasture and Sing Pete hammers theiron triangle morning, noon and night, announcing the regular arrival ofmeal-time. The Chinaman is careful when he throws out emptytomato-cans--turning back the tin to make it impossible for the yellowcat again to fasten his head in one of the inviting traps, and the cookwould imperil the hope of the return of his soul to the flowery Orientbefore he would put butter in the bottom of a can to entice the animalinto trouble.

  Old Heck and Ophelia are like a pair of nesting doves and there is a newvigor to the step of the owner of the Quarter Circle KT, a revivedinterest in affairs generally; years seem to have fallen from hisshoulders.

  Carolyn June smiles sweetly as ever at Skinny, spends much time ridingalone over the valley and hills; in her eyes there has come a morethoughtful--often a wistful--expression.

  Sabota did not die.

  After the escape of the Ramblin' Kid the marshal reentered the pool-roomand had the big Greek removed to the hotel. A doctor was called and setas well as possible the broken jaws, the crushed nose, picked out thefragments of bone and the loosened teeth, sewed up the terrible gasheson Sabota's face and left the bully groaning and profaning inhalf-conscious agony.

  The night of the fight Skinny took Old Pie Face back to the barn.

  The cowboy's heart was heavy with remorse. He blamed himself for all thetrouble. Had he not wanted to make a fool of himself and get drunk theRamblin' Kid would not have come to Eagle Butte, the fight would nothave occurred, the friend he had ridden with through storm andsunshine--whom he had stood "night guard" and fought mad stampedes into"the mill"--would not now be an outcast sought by the hand of the law.

  News of the beating the Ramblin' Kid gave Sabota traveled fast.

  It was flashed over Eagle Butte that the Greek was dead.

  "So th' Ramblin' Kid killed old Sabota, did he?" the hostler at thelivery barn asked Skinny as he stepped out to care for the cowboy'shorse. "What was it over? Sabota having th' Ramblin' Kid 'doped' the dayof the sweepstakes?"

  Skinny looked keenly, searchingly, at the stableman.

  "What do you mean--'Sabota having th' Ramblin' Kid doped?'" he askedsharply.

  "Why, didn't you know?" the hostler replied. "I thought everybodyknowed. Gyp Streetor told me about it the day of the race--I used toknow Gyp when he was a kid back east. I saw him as he was beating it toget out of town. He borrowed five dollars from me. Said Sabota hired himto put 'knock-out' in some coffee for th' Ramblin' Kid and he reckonedthe dose wasn't big enough or something. Anyhow, it didn't hold himunder long as they thought it would and when he saw the Gold Dustmaverick show up on the track he got scared--was afraid it would leakout or th' Ramblin' Kid would suspect him and try to 'get' him after therace, so he ducked out of town--"

  "You ain't lying about that?" Skinny asked.

  "What would I want to lie about it for?" the other replied. "Wasn'tthat what made th' Ramblin' Kid kill the Greek?"

  "No, it was something else," Skinny answered; "but Sabota ain't dead.He's just crunched up pretty bad--th' Ramblin' Kid jumped on him, likeCaptain Jack did on that feller from the Chickasaw that tried to stealhim!"

  Skinny's mind was in a whirl.

  So the Ramblin' Kid was not drunk the day of the race! He was drugged--sick--yet, in spite of everything, rode the Gold Dust maverick and beatthe black wonder-horse from the Vermejo! Lord! and they had all thoughthe was on a tear!

  The bottle of whisky was still in the bosom of Skinny's shirt.

  He had not touched it. He felt a sudden revulsion for the vile stuff.

  "Here," he said, jerking the flask from its hiding-place and handing itto the hostler, "maybe you'd like that bottle of 'rot-gut'--I've sworeoff!"

  "I ain't," the stableman laughed and took it eagerly.

  Skinny remained in town that night and the next day, waiting for Parkerand the Quarter Circle KT cowboys to come in with the beef cattle. Theyarrived about noon. Old Heck drove in with the Clagstone "Six." Opheliaand Carolyn June came with him. Skinny met them when Old Heck stoppedthe in front of the Occidental Hotel. He told them, while they stillsat in the automobile, of the fight and the escape of the Ramblin' Kid.

  "A drunken brawl!" Carolyn June thought, a wave of disgust sweeping overher.

  "Th' Ramblin' Kid hadn't touched a drop," Skinny said, explaining thefight and almost as if he were answering her unspoken thought. "If he'dbeen drinking, I reckon Sabota would have killed him instead of hisbeating the Greek blamed near to death. I know now what he used to meanwhen he'd say, 'A man's a fool to put whisky in him when he's facin' atight squeeze!' The little devil sure needed everything he had--nerveand head and muscle and all--for the job he tackled last night!"

  Skinny didn't tell them that his hand had rested on the handle of hisown gun--determined that he, himself, would kill Sabota if the brutesucceeded in choking the Ramblin' Kid to death.

  "What was the fight about?" Old Heck asked.

  "A pink ribbon or something with a little silver do-funny on it--itlooked like a sleeve-holder or a garter--dropped out of th' Ramblin'Kid's pocket and Sabota made a nasty remark about it," Skinny said.

  Carolyn June caught her breath and her face flushed.

  "The Greek said something about Carolyn June, I didn't just hear what,"Skinny continued, "and then he smashed the ribbon under his foot. Thenext instant th' Ramblin' Kid was trying to kill him!

  "It's a pity he didn't succeed!" Old Heck exclaimed. "The damned filthywhelp--excuse me, Ophelia, for cussing, but I just had to say It!"

  "It's all right," was the laughing rejoinder, "I--I--wanted to say itmyself!"

  Carolyn June's eyes glowed. Her heart felt as if a weight had beenlifted from it So, the Ramblin' Kid had kept the odd souvenir, and hecared--he cared!

  "Go ahead," she whispered to Skinny; "what then?"

  "I reckon that's about all," Skinny answered. "Th' Ramblin' Kid smashedSabota and as he staggered back, picked up the ribbon--then he didn'tquit till he thought the Greek was dead. Tom Poole arrested him, but th'Ramblin' Kid got the drop on him and got away. He was justified inbeating Sabota up anyhow," he added, "on account of the dirty cusshiring a feller to 'dope' him so he couldn't ride the maverick the dayof the big race--"

  "'Dope' him?" Old Heck interrupted, puzzled.

  "Yes," Skinny explained, "the Greek had a feller named Gyp Streetor putsome stuff in th' Ramblin? Kid's coffee. He wasn't drunk at all--he wasjust poisoned with 'knock-out!'"

  "Good lord!" Old Heck exclaimed. "And he rode that race when he wasdrugged! While we all thought he'd gone to pieces and was drunk!"

  Carolyn June's cheeks suddenly turned pale. He cared, but he was gone!Perhaps never to come back! It seemed as if an iron hand was clutchingat her throat!

  She and Ophelia went into the hotel and Old Heck and Skinny drove thecar over to the stock-yards where the cattle were being loaded.

  After Parker and the cowboys were on their way east with the steers andbefore he returned to the ranch Old Heck went into the room in whichSabota lay. The Greek's head was a mass of white bandages. His eyesbattered and swollen shut, he could not see the face of his visitor.

  For a moment Old Heck looked at him, his lips parted in a smile ofcontempt lightened with satisfaction.

  "Well, Sabota," he said at last, "th' Ramblin' Kid didn't qui
te do hisduty, did he? If he had gone as far as he ought to you wouldn't belaying there--they'd just about now be hiding your dirty carcass undersix feet of 'dobe!'"

  Sabota mumbled some guttural, unintelligible reply.

  "Listen, you infernal skunk," Old Heck went on coldly, "as quick asyou're able to travel you'll find Eagle Butte's a right good place toget away from! You understand what I mean. If I catch you around, well,I won't use no fists!" And without waiting for an answer he turned andleft the room.

  The owner of the Quarter Circle KT then hunted lip the marshal of EagleButte.

  "Tom," he said, "I reckon you'll be looking some for th' Ramblin' Kid,after what happened last night, won't you?"

  The marshal had heard of Sabota's effort to have the young cowboydrugged the day of the race and also the immediate cause for the fight.

  "Oh, I don't know as I will," he said, "unless the Greek makes somecharge or other. I don't imagine he'll do that"

  "I know blamed well he won't!" Old Heck interrupted. "But how about th'Ramblin' Kid putting his gun in your ribs--resisting an officer and soon?"

  "Putting his gun in my ribs? Resisting an officer?" the lanky Missouriananswered with a sly grin; "who said he put a gun on me--or resisted anofficer or anything? I ain't heard nothing about it!"

  Two days later Sabota, with the help of "Red" Jackson, managed to get tothe Santa Fe station. He was able to travel and he did travel. Jacksonsaid he went to the "Border." Eagle Butte did not know or care--theCimarron town was through with him.

  When Old Heck, Carolyn June and Ophelia returned to the Quarter CircleKT the evening of the day following the fight, the Gold Dust maverickwhinnied lonesomely from the circular corral as the Clagstone "Six"stopped in front of the house.

  "What are we going to do with that filly?" Old Heck asked, looking atthe beautiful creature with her head above the bars of the corral gate.

  "I am going to ride her!" Carolyn June said softly. "Until the Ramblin'Kid comes back and claims her she is mine! She loves me and I can handleher!"

  "I'm afraid--" Old Heck started to protest.

  "You need not be," Carolyn June interrupted, "the Gold Dust maverick andI know each other--she understands me and I understand her--she will beperfectly gentle with me!"

  The next day Carolyn June rode the wonderful outlaw mare. It was as shesaid. The filly was perfectly gentle with her. After that, every day,the girl saddled the Gold Dust maverick and, unafraid, took long ridesalone.

  * * * * *

  The night the cattle were shipped Skinny had supper in Eagle Butte. Hesat alone at a small table at one side of the dining-room in theOccidental Hotel. The cowboy was the picture of utter misery. Parker,Charley, Chuck, Bert were gone to Chicago with steers; the Ramblin' Kidwas gone--nobody knew where; Skinny's dream about Carolyn June wasgone--she didn't love him, she just liked him; even his whisky was gone,he had given it to the hostler at the barn; he didn't have any friendsor anything.

  "What's the matter, Skinny?" Manilla Endora, the yellow-haired waitress,asked softly, as she stepped up to the table and looked down a moment atthe dejected cowboy. There was something in her voice that made Skinnypity himself more than ever. It made him want to cry. "What's wrong?'Manilla repeated almost tenderly.

  "Everything!" Skinny blurted out, dropping his head on his arms. "Thewhole blamed works is shot to pieces!"

  A little smile stole over Manilla's rosy lips.

  "I know what it is," she said gently, unreproachfully; "it's that girl,Carolyn June. Yes, it is," as Skinny started to interrupt. "Oh, I don'tblame you for falling for her!" she went on. "She is nice--but, well,Skinny-boy," her voice was a caress, "Old Heck's niece is not the sortfor you. You and her wouldn't fit at all--the way you wanted--andanyhow, there--there--are others," coloring warmly.

  Skinny looked up into the honest blue eyes.

  "You ain't sore at me or anything are you, Manilla?" he asked.

  "Sore?" she answered. "Of course not!"

  Hope sprung again into his heart. "I--I--thought maybe you would be," hestammered.

  "Forget it!" she laughed. "The old world still wobbles!"

  "Manilla, you--you're a peach!" he cried.

  She chuckled. "Did you hear about that dance next Saturday night afterthe picture show?" she asked archly.

  "No. Is there one?" with new interest in life.

  "Yes," she replied, her lashes drooping demurely; "they say the music isgoing to be swell."

  "If I come in will you--will we--go, Manilla?" he asked eagerly.

  They would.

  "Poor Skinny," Manilla murmured to herself as she went to the kitchen toget his order, "poor cuss--he can't keep from breaking his heart overevery skirt that brushes against him, but"--and she laughedsoftly--"darn his ugly picture, I like him anyhow!"

  After supper Skinny hurried to the Golden Rule store. It was still open.

  "Give me a white shirt--number fifteen," he said to the clerk; "and beblamed sure it's the right size--they ain't worth a cuss if they're toobig!"